


comfort

by upottery



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, bokuto gets mentioned 4 two whole seconds, kenma has p bad anxiety, kuroo calls kenma kitten a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upottery/pseuds/upottery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are little things that Kenma can count on Kuroo for, too. Like if they want to order pizza, Kuroo will always call, or if Kenma has a question in a store, Kuroo will always ask an employee. Kenma’s mom says that Kuroo’s holding him back by doing these things for him, but it’s not like that. Kuroo isn’t doing it because he doesn’t want Kenma “better,” it’s because he’s a good friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	comfort

**Author's Note:**

> this description of anxiety is based entirely off of my own experience, so it might differ from the way you see it or experience it. this isn't about kuroo "curing him" or whatever. it's just about finding ways 2 deal with it together.

It’s dark in his room. The blinds are drawn, dust motes barely visible in the slivers of sunlight streaming in. The lights are off, and he can hardly see the other side of his room from his position on the bed. He’s pushing his breath out through his teeth, hearing it hiss softly in his ears. His head is in his hands, calloused fingertips pushing against his pounding head. He can’t get his heart under control, it’s racing for no reason and he feels stupid, stupid for letting it get to him, the pressure, the press-

This is how Kuroo finds him. Kuroo strolls in, talking in that slow way of his, “Kenma, I hope you’re ready, it looks like they really-“ He pauses, “Kenma?” Kenma doesn’t meet his eyes, choosing to leave his head where it rests in his hands, heaving air through his fingers. He hears Kuroo’s approach before he sees it, and soon he catches the dark mass of Kuroo’s hair as it settles in front of his eyes. 

“Kenma, are you alright?” Kuroo puts his hand on Kenma’s ankle, where it lays huddled close to the rest of his body. Kenma doesn’t respond, can’t, feels like his lips are too chapped to let any words go. Kuroo receives the message. The hand on his ankle begins moving against his leg, Kuroo’s thumb passing in slow circles on the bone.

“Kenma, kitten, breathe with me.” He drags his hand up, “In,” He says, “Out.” Sliding his hand back down. “You’re safe.” Kuroo’s tone stays even, he is a solid weight, a solid presence in Kenma’s life. Somewhere in Kenma’s mind, he’s certain he is thankful, beyond the looming panic clouding his thoughts. 

Kenma keeps closing and opening his eyes, imagining the days going by, time escaping him as he breathes. He can feel his heart beat slowing. The dread is settling, finally, finally. His taut-string of a body begins to loosen, like a cord unwrapping, in waves. Kenma knows he is crying, his cheeks are wet. He is almost too exhausted to remember to be embarrassed. 

Kuroo has seen this more times than he can count, but he still feels ashamed. He won’t peel his hands from his face. Kuroo is warm next to him, kneeling on the ground next to his bed. Kuroo moves his hand to rest under Kenma’s chin, cradling Kenma’s jaw, partially covering one of his hands. 

Kenma feels his breath inches from his face. Kuroo leans up and softly presses his lips against Kenma’s forehead. It is so gentle, so reverent, Kenma is overwhelmed. He loves him. Even this fatigued, even through his post-panic haze, he knows that he loves him. Kuroo is the only one who has ever stuck by him through these, the only one who knows just what to do, what to say and not to say. He has never treated Kenma differently because of the anxiety that constantly grips him. 

Kuroo is a very affectionate friend, to Kenma’s disadvantage. It’s moments like these where Kenma can clearly imagine Kuroo embracing him from behind in the kitchen of an apartment they bought together, pressing light kisses against his neck and whispering “I love you, kitten.” He can imagine them sharing one big bed, Kuroo reading one of his far-fetched science fiction novels as Kenma plays his PSP, just existing. He can see them in a grocery store, Kuroo holding 4 loaves of milk bread with pleading eyes. He can imagine feeling Kuroo inside of him, making his breath catch high in his throat. 

Kenma wants it so bad his heart aches. 

“Kenma?” Kuroo is still close, “You with me?” 

“Yes.” Kenma says, waits, “Sorry.” His voice is hoarse and weak, he can hear the edge of tears in it. 

“Look at me, tell me you’re alright.” Kuroo is so near; Kenma can smell him, the boy sweat and the aftershave, the terrible deodorant. 

Kenma drags his hands from his face, blinking rapidly like it will dispel the tears quickly enough. Kuroo levels his gaze, and it’s like seeing him for the first time. It’s dark in the room but Kenma always sees Kuroo clearly; his sharp, handsome face, his awful bed head, the way his lips come together. Kenma feels his chest lurch at the sight of him, concern painted so genuinely in his expression. 

Kenma tries to quickly wipe away the tears from his cheeks. “I’m fine, Kuroo.”

“We don’t have to go out today if you don’t want to.” And because Kuroo likes seeing him suffer, “I can stay here with you. I’ll watch you play Mass Effect.” 

“Yeah,” Kenma doesn’t have words for how grateful he is that Kuroo is his, even if it isn’t the way he wants. “That sounds good.” 

-

There are little things that Kenma can count on Kuroo for, too. Like if they want to order pizza, Kuroo will always call, or if Kenma has a question in a store, Kuroo will always ask an employee. Kenma’s mom says that Kuroo’s holding him back by doing these things for him, but it’s not like that. Kuroo isn’t doing it because he doesn’t want Kenma “better,” it’s because he’s a good friend. 

Kenma has a scale for his anxiety, something he developed with a therapist a long time ago, that’s supposed to distance him from panic. Each time he feels anxious, he has to take a step back and evaluate the anxiety from 1 to 10, 1 being totally at ease, and 10 being nuclear. It helps, sometimes, but Kenma always starts his day out at a 5 or 6 on the scale, and it only goes up from there. 

Kenma wouldn’t call himself dependent, or imply that Kuroo “cures” him, or some other bullshit, but when he wakes up from a sleepover at Kuroo’s house, in Kuroo’s bed, the smell of terrible deodorant surrounding him, the day starts at a 4. It’s because he knows Kuroo doesn’t have a plan for every eventuality, and knows that Kuroo’s okay with it. It balances him. Kenma’s need to control everything around him fades, if only a little bit, and for a few moments. 

His old therapist used to call Kuroo his rock. Ever since Kenma developed his feelings at the beginning of high school, he thinks he’s stuck between Kuroo and a hard place. 

-

They’re in Kuroo’s room, now. His dorm is small, and he shares it with a teammate from the volleyball team. Bokuto’s gone home for the weekend, something about not seeing a beautiful sight in a long time. The air hangs light between them, Kuroo mindlessly rubbing his toes against Kenma’s leg as they play Mario Kart, squished together on Kuroo’s twin bed. 

Kenma could live in this state forever. It’s a 4 on the scale. He’s not completely relaxed, but he never is, always worrying about whatever his mind can bring up: spilling that soda on his walk home the other day, someone who met his eyes on the bus for three seconds too long, if Kuroo has an extra phone charger that’s compatible with his phone because he forgot his. Kenma’s much better at Mario Kart. 

He makes the mistake of looking at Kuroo, his face deep in concentration as he tries to overtake Kenma’s car. His nose is wrinkled up, mouth set in a stark line. He is beautiful. It’s a 5, now. Even if it’s Kuroo who has his heart racing, it’s still racing. 

Kuroo turns to look at him, probably could feel the weight of Kenma’s overbearing gaze on his high cheekbone. Kuroo smiles at him, easy, intolerably lovely. Kenma is gone for him. It’s a 6. If he lets his feelings get to him when they are just hanging out, what good is he? He’s turning his safe haven of friendship into a panic-inducing mess. That thought process has him thinking about all the mistakes he’s made with Kuroo along the way, how could Kuroo even still like him? What a freak he is, perverting the kindness of his best frien-

“Kenma.” Kuroo says, “you let me win.” 

Kenma snaps his eyes back to the screen; Kuroo’s crossed the finish line, and Kenma’s half a lap behind, car stuck in the grass. “Sorry,” He replies, “I got distracted.”

“By me?” Kuroo questions, “Of course you did. I’m quite the distracter.” 

Kenma groans, partly in exasperation, partly because he can’t fucking take it anymore. Kuroo is perfectly imperfect, Kuroo is his foil, Kuroo is the slow morning air, and the smell of blossoms blooming in spring. Kuroo is a fucking idiot, he doesn’t have eyes. 

It’s a 7, now. Kenma can feel the familiar pressure mounting in his skull, like the smell of rain before it happens. He’s such a fool. He couldn’t continue to live in his version of comfort, with Kuroo a steady presence by his side. Kenma’s ruining everything without even trying. 

“Kenma,” He hears Kuroo’s voice, but it sounds far away, muffled. “Take a breath. Kitten, you’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t take a breath.”

Kuroo puts his hands on Kenma’s shoulders, hefting him closer. Kenma lets it happen. Kuroo puts their foreheads together, “Kenma, you have to breathe. Do it with me.” He places one of Kenma’s hands on his chest, having him feel the exaggerated breaths Kuroo’s taking. 

Kenma is frowning, eyes closed, but he’s breathing in sync with Kuroo, following his lead, like he always does, Kuroo leading him to safety and relief, like he always does. 

The first thing he notices as he comes back is Kuroo’s smell. It’s familiar and grounding. He loves him. That’s what this whole episode was about. He’s been so deep in his love for so long. The pressure of his uncertainty is suffocating. He’s sick of living in fear of losing his favorite source of happiness.

Kenma, for once, wants to have his cake and eat it too. 

He kisses Kuroo. Brief, just a press of pairs of lips, like a breeze. 

Kuroo sputters and pulls back, “K-Kenma.” He raises his eyebrows, “You’re not doing this because you aren’t feeling well, are you?”

Kuroo is too good for him.

“I’m not, no,” Kenma says, “I want to. It’s only you.”

Kuroo doesn’t seem to know what to do with this information. 

Kenma leans back in, sealing his lips around Kuroo’s bottom lip, a little fumbling, a lot inexperience. He does this, once, twice, three times. Kuroo groans in the back of his throat. It spurs Kenma on to take more for himself. He opens his mouth and Kuroo’s tongue curls in. 

The feeling sparks Kenma up. His heart is racing, and he’s incredibly nervous, but it’s one of those times where Kuroo balances him, Kuroo’s lack of control and discipline guide him into a new experience, one where the feeling is setting him alight. 

Kenma kisses the corner of Kuroo’s mouth and pulls away to crawl into his lap, straddling him.

“Go-d, Kenma, kitten, baby,” Kuroo is saying, low and slow, he brings their mouths back together. Kenma lets out a soft noise at the names, preening under the affection he can feel emitting from Kuroo. Kenma can sense Kuroo growing hard beneath him, and he instinctively grinds his hips down against it. A long, low moan tumbles from Kuroo’s lips, “Please, yeah, do that again, kitten, shi-“

The way Kuroo speaks has always affected him, but never more so than now, where it has Kenma rearing to go, sliding his hands up Kuroo’s sides under his shirt until Kuroo leans back to take it off. His muscles are defined, but not bulging. Kenma wants to touch. “You too.” Kuroo says, brushing his thumb against Kenma’s nipple beneath his tee. 

Kenma takes his shirt off and their lips meet again, Kuroo’s hands fluttering against his chest. “You’re so beautiful, Kenma, shit,” Kuroo is mumbling against his mouth, stuttering out breaths each time Kenma grinds down or he grinds up. 

“You too.” Kenma echoes, smiling a bit. Kuroo smiles back. 

Kuroo’s hand has moved down his chest to rest on his thigh, rubbing in those calming circles, “Can I take these off?”

Kenma’s anxiety spikes again. Is he ready for that? What if he isn’t good? What if Kuroo doesn’t like his cock? What if- 

“I can hear you thinking over here,” Kuroo says gently, “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready. Just think about that one question, and don’t let your thoughts run away with it. You’re my best friend. There’s nothing about you I don’t like.” He’s holding Kenma like he’s precious, one hand on his thigh and the other resting lightly on his lower back. 

Kenma considers it. His goal is in sight, those slow mornings making each other breakfast between kisses can happen. What else is he afraid of?

“Yeah,” Kenma says, “You can take them off, if I can take yours.” 

Kuroo smirks.

They both remove their pants and boxers in one go, now kneeling there naked in front of each other. Kenma can’t even breathe, Kuroo is so striking. His cock stands proudly, thick as it bounces against his defined abs. Kenma feels his small stature in comparison, and finds that he likes it. He likes that Kuroo is larger and more built, he finds it unbearably erotic.

Kuroo is on him soon enough, sliding his knees underneath Kenma’s thighs so that he is straddling him again. He rubs his hands along Kenma’s upper thighs, gentle, like he always treats him. It’s safe here. Kenma nods, giving him permission. 

Kuroo licks his hand, obscenely, and takes Kenma in his grip. It’s the first time anyone has seen Kenma like this, let alone touched him. It’s electric. Kenma can feel his anxiety buzzing in his mind, like normal, but it’s low, familiar. 

“How is it, kitten?” Kuroo asks between kisses on Kenma’s jaw.

“G-good,” Kenma breathes out, moans high and bright in his throat. “Fas-faster.” 

“Can I….” Kenma looks down to where Kuroo’s gesturing, waving his hand towards his own neglected cock, head shiny and red. 

Kenma nods and closes his eyes, preparing for the feeling of Kuroo this intimately. Kuroo wraps his large hand around both of their cocks and starts pumping. Immediately, Kenma notices the differences, feels hotter, more desperate, moaning getting breathier. 

“Ke-kenma, you feel so good against me,” Kuroo’s voice is a hum, “Always want you here like this.” 

Kuroo’s voice and hand bring Kenma so close to the edge. “Kuroo,” He whines, “I’m gonna come.”

The sound of Kuroo’s hand and their breathing almost muffles Kuroo’s voice, softly, “You can come, kitten.”

Kenma’s body goes bowstring tight as he comes, he can hear Kuroo praising him as his own orgasm hits him. It’s incredibly, almost unbelievable, the way he feels. Spent, exhausted, but not in the drained way like he is after a panic attack, more like in a fulfilled way. He feels new. 

Kenma slides back off of Kuroo’s thighs. He lies down next to him, allowing his breath to slow, watching Kuroo wipe their come onto his sheets. 

Kuroo leans back against the pillows. They are packed together tightly in his small bed. “Shit,” He says. His whole side rests against Kenma’s small body. 

“Sorry that took me so long,” Kenma replies, wistfully. “I was nervous.” He allows himself a small chuckle at his own expense. 

Kuroo turns his body onto its side so that he can look Kenma in the eye. He leans in and presses his lips to Kenma’s cheek. “I’m proud of you.” He says. 

Kenma openly laughs.


End file.
